


Drabbles of the ABC

by JJ91



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Kids, M/M, Marriage, Multi, Other, Romance, Some sadness every once in a while
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 11,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ91/pseuds/JJ91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of Modern-Au drabbles set around Les Amis. Different pairings, set in different stages of the lives of Les Amis. Pairings and characters will be added when they appear.</p>
<p>Check the chapter notes to see which characters/pairings appear in that specific drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Six Months

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,
> 
> First of all, thank you for taking the time reading my drabbles. Second, English isn't my mother tongue, so if you see any spelling/grammar mistakes please let me know so I can fix them (I try to get them out beforehand, but I might not notice all of them.)

_Missing someone isn't about how long it's been since you've seen them or the amount of time since you've talked. It's about that very moment when you're doing something and wishing they where right there with you._ If Grantaire had learned anything over the past six months that was it. Six months was the time his boyfriend was in America for an internship with one or another human rights organisation. Today he came home. Finally.

 

 The dark haired boy looked at the destination board. The flight had a 30 minute delay and anyone who told him those 30 extra minutes didn't matter after being a part for six months was wrong, because he had to wait for 30 minutes more to hold his love in his arms again. His love. It was still crazy to call him that, even now they were seven months together, or at least in a relationship, because you couldn't really call it together if there was an ocean between you for so long.

 

 Grantaire had fallen for Enjolras the minute he'd laid eyes on him. He wasn't a romantic, but this was love at first sight. For him at least. For Enjolras it took two years and a bottle of cheap wine to admit how he felt.

 

 It was a month before he would leave for his internship. The Amis had a party to celebrate Feuilly's birthday and Enjolras had decided to have a glass of wine with his friends, not noticing how his glass never got empty. He got drunk that night and in his drunken haze he ended up kissing Grantaire. The next morning they woke up in each others arms, both having a bad hangover and well... Enjolras never left after that. So they had a month together to find out how they were going to make everything work. First just being boyfriends, which was already hard enough for the both of them, and after that how they were going to survive six months apart.

 

 Six months apart weren't easy. While Enjolras was meeting a lot of interesting new people and doing the things he loved most, Grantaire was home alone. Ok, his friends where still there, but his boyfriend wasn't and he missed him a lot. Of course they knew Skype and they talked to each other whenever they could (which wasn't really that much, since Enjolras spend most of his time working at his internship). He even didn't have to miss their discussions, because fighting over Skype appeared to be quite easy. But Grantaire missed waking up next to his Apollo. He also missed Enjolras on the day the art school held an exhibition and his work got displayed for the first time. He had been so nervous that day and while all of the other Amis were there to support him, it wasn't the same without Enjolras there. He'd wanted his boyfriend there so bad.

 

 But today he came home and ever since Grantaire got up that morning, he had been counting the minutes until Enjolras' plane would arrive. He looked at the clock. Still 47 minutes and then of course the time it would take Enjolras to get his baggage. Enough time for coffee. So he decided to get some at Starbucks, now he still had the chance to do so without getting a rant from Enjolras about the evil of capitalistic company's and how he should support local entrepreneurs.

 

 A cup of coffee, two cookies and half an hour wandering in the bookshop later, Grantaire was hopping from one foot on to another at the arrivals. It was just minutes now and he was looking trough the crowd for the blond curls of his Apollo. Even though he couldn't wait to hold him in his arms again, he was also a little nervous. Six months with an ocean between them could change a lot. What if Enjolr... Before he could get lost in his train of thoughts he felt two arms wrapped around his waist. "Surprise." The soft voice of his boyfriend whispered before Enjolras turned him around to kiss him. "I missed you." And Grantaire held on to him, as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn't just leave again. "I missed you too."

* * *

 

 

 

This drabble was inspired by [this](http://pinterest.com/pin/412009065880795883/) and [this](http://pinterest.com/pin/412009065880316659/). The first one is the text at the start of this drabble, the second one is the drawing that made me want to write somethng related to long distance relationships.


	2. Sirius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine and Combeferre are stargazing. They talk about stars and Harry Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the main couple in this drabble is Eponine/Combeferre. Any of the facts/stories shown in this piece is entirely based on stuff I found online and really, I'm quite enjoying this new useless knowledge.

Eponine sits in the grass between Combeferres legs. She leans against his chest, head on his shoulder whilst looking up to the sky. One of his arms is securely wrapped around her waist, his hand on hers. His other hand he uses to point things out. "Do you see that one? They call it Sirius and it's the brightest star in the night sky." He points in the direction of the horizon and just above it Eponine can, indeed, see it.

 

"The name reminds me of Harry Potter though..." She tells him after they've been silent for a while. Eponine doesn't have to look up to know Combeferres smile grows wider. "Yeah, the character Sirius is named after the star." He tells her. "You know how Sirius is the one who can change in to a big black dog? Well, the nickname of the star Sirius is 'the dog star'."

 

Of course this would be something Combeferre knows, she thinks. He's a nerd like that, a bookworm. She never read the books and she'd never seen the movies until Combeferre made her when they just started dating. Every date another one, Combeferre pointing out the differences between the book and the movie or telling her just little facts he knew about it. She had teased him about it, but secretly enjoyed how he knew stuff about practically everything. Whether it came to French philosophers, moths or fantasy books like Harry Potter, Combeferre could talk about it. Sometimes when he went on about random facts she liked to tease him, calling him her personal encyclopaedia.

 

"Why?" She asks, not even necessarily  because she wants to know, but more so because she loves to listen to him talk. Enjolras might be the known for his speeches, it's Combeferre she actually likes to listen to. "There are several stories about that, but one of the most known stories is the Greek myth about Artemis. She killed her husband Orion by accident. It's something that makes Artemis incredibly sad so she decides to give Orion a place amongst the stars together with his beloved dog Sirius so she can still look upon them."

 

After his story they just sit together, enjoying each others company and the silence that comes with the night. Eponine basks in it for a little while. She loves to hear Combeferre talk, but she loves it even more that they can be so comfortable together in silence.


	3. Mar(r)y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire and Enjolras visit the grave of Grantaires mother. Drabble based on the song Mary by Bertolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble is inspired by the song Mary from the Dutch singer Bertolf. I truly love this song and I recommend you to listen to it whilst/after reading this little piece of mine: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-6hUVHavAo

They walked down the graveyard together, snow crackling under their feet. It was the day after Christmas and Grantaire had stated that morning he wanted to visit his mothers grave. It was the first time he'd asked Enjolras to come along, so now they walked down the lawn, hands intertwined.

"She would've liked you, you know. The way you talk about equality and even your passion in general. She would've liked that." Grantaire barely ever spoke about his mother, but now they were walking here, he told Enjolras little bits about her, which made Enjolras wish he could've met her. There was a photo of Grantaires mother in the windowsill at their apartment though and Enjolras could see how mother and son had the same eyes.

They held still at the end of the lawn. "Next month it's seven years ago." Grantaire said softly, pointing out his mothers headstone. "Do you mind?" Enjolras shook his head and Grantaire let go of his hand. Carefully he wiped the snow away from the stone. "Hey mom." Grantaires voice was barely above a whisper. "Here he is. The Apollo I've been talking to you about for four years now. I thought you should meet him." Grantaire gestured at Enjolras.

 "I have something to tell you too." The prospect of what he was going to tell made him smile brightly. "I'm going to get married. Who would've thought huh? Your ever cynic son getting married." Grantaires fingers traced the outline of the letters on the stone. _Mary Grantaire, beloved daughter, mother and friend_. The date of her birth and death engraved underneath it.  "The ring was my Christmas present. Best gift ever! Yes, sorry mom, better than that time you took me to Disney for Christmas." Grantaire looked back at Enjolras for a moment, his face radiant. "I thought you'd like being the first to know. We're telling our friends tonight." He laid his hand upon the stone one more time before walking back to Enjolras, their fingers intertwined again.

 They stood there in silence for about a minute, Grantaire's head laying upon Enjolras' shoulder. Enjolras squeezed his fiancées hand softly. "May I?" He whispered. Grantaire squeezed his hand back as an answer. "Hi, Ms. Grantaire." Enjolras stuttered a little. He didn't really know how to approach this. He'd never talked to someone who passed away before, but he felt like he had to now, for his fiancée. "I'm sorry you're hearing about this after the proposal. I promise you, I would've asked you for your sons hand if that would've been an option. I went for the next best thing now and asked his best friend, even though Jehan's a soppy romantic who would've agreed no matter what. It's about the intention right?" He sounded slightly insecure, but he could feel Grantaire smile at his comment about Jehan. "I love your son very much and I'm going to do all I can to make him happy, I promise." When Enjolras stopped talking, Grantaire lifted his head from the blonde mans shoulder, smiled at him and placed a kiss on his lips.

 When they started to walk back to the car Grantaire looked back one more time before turning to Enjolras.. "Thank you. Thank you, you did this for me, with me."


	4. Fathers day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fathers day approaches and causes trouble for Eponine and Cosettes son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this a while back when Fathers day was approaching. It was after a request to write something with Eponine/Cosette as the main pairing. This was my first time writing anything with this pairing even in mind so it's not to heavy loaded with the relationship. This drabble mainly revolves around Cosette and the couples son.

"Mom?"

The small voice made Cosette look up from her newspaper, right in to the big, blue eyes of her son. She had been catching up on the news after a couple of busy days when the little boy interrupted her.

"What is it Jean?" Jean, who's full name was Jean-Gavroche, had been playing silently with his cars ever since Cosette had picked him up from school. Normally that was Eponines job, but she had a meeting this afternoon so Cosette had taken some time off from work to take care of their son.

 She pushed her paper aside and pulled the little boy on her lap where he hugged her tightly. "Mom, where is my dad?" His eyes were watching her expectantly. At moments like this it struck her, how much the little boy looked like her.

 "Why do you ask sweetie?" She asked, in an attempt to give herself some time to think. Of course she knew this was a question that would come one day. She had just hoped it would wait a couple of years and Eponine would be there with her to answer it. Thankfully, the young boy was still easily distracted. So when she asked her counter question he didn't push her for an answer on his own.

"Well... Miss Lily was talking about Fathers day today..." Jean told her, while fidgeting with his hands. "And she wanted us to make a gift for our papas..." The little boy paused again. Cosette stroked his blonde locks, but kept silent so he could finish his story.

"We learned  a song about how we loved our dads first and after that we had to make a painting of all the things we loved about our papas to go with the song. And Miss Lily told me to make a painting of all the things I like about Grandpa Valjean." Cosette smiled at the mention of her father, ever since Jean had started at school they had been open about their unlikely family and how her father was the male role model for their son together with his Uncle Gavroche. He was named after them after all. Luckily,  their sons teacher had picked up on that and with mothers day the woman took care of the fact that Jean made two paintings instead of one. Cosette knew though, that  this wasn't what had triggered her sons question.

 "So I did as I was told. I made a painting about how I like that he is strong and he can put me above his head to play airplanes. And he makes the best sandwiches, but then Luc told me our family wasn't a real family because I didn't have a dad and everyone has a dad and I don't so he told me I'm weird." The boy started to ramble a bit, telling this part of the story and Cosette was just happy she was the one hearing it instead of her girlfriend. Even though Luc was her five-year-olds classmate, Eponine wouldn't have thought twice about telling him to stick his big mouth at a place the sun doesn't shine.

"You're not weird sweetie. Luc is just jealous you have two moms who love you instead of one." She hugged her son tight and asked him if he felt like baking cookies after that. The little boy nodded excitedly. So while walking to the kitchen with him, Cosette decided to talk to both Eponine and miss Lily about the encounter, happy that her son didn't demand more answers right now.


	5. Dancing lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jehan teaches Enjolras how to dance for his wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay ballroom dancing. This has a teeny tiny bit of Enjolras/Combeferre in it, but don't let it stop you from reading this if it isn't your ship, it's really just a hint.

"Stop pulling at my arm! I know leading is your second nature, but you don't even know the steps yet."

 "This is stupid." Enjolras rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time that afternoon.

"Yeah, well it's not my fault you rebelled against your parents in high school and didn't take your dancing lessons back then, when your husband-to-be did. Now you're stuck with me and I'm not letting you go until you can dream Every. Single. Step!" Enjolras was quite taken aback with the tone of Jehans voice. The poet could be quite scary if he wanted to be, so the blonde got back in the right position, ready to continue his dancing lesson.

"Ok. Left foot first and one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three." Jehan leaded and Enjolras did the best he could at following, trying not to fall over his own feet.

 After a while, he actually started to remember the steps. "Ok, now you try to lead." So Enjolras tightened his grip at Jehans shoulder and felt the steps coming more natural.

"Yay, this is way better! I'm such a good teacher!" The poet squealed, while doing a little happy-dance after the song finished. "Now try again. Try a little more like you're dancing trough life instead of carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders Apollo! Come on, this is for your wedding. You're supposed to like this."

"My husband-to-be likes this." Enjolras sighed, "I actually don't get how Combeferre wants a traditional wedding." Jehan rolled his eyes. He actually didn't get how Combeferre could handle Enjolras obliviousness about personal matters all the time, but he decided to not say that out loud.

"He's really more of a romantic then you give him credit for E. I know you're already together forever, but he didn't ask you to marry him for nothing. Now come on. One more time." And with those words Enjolras let himself be pushed around again, hoping it would be all worth it when he saw his husbands face at the big day.


	6. Sagrada Familia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jehan and Grantaire take a trip to Barcelona and visit the Sagrada Familia.

Taking in the light, Grantaire was glad he took this trip with Jehan. The two had immediately hit of when they met at college and had been best friends ever since. So when Jehan mentioned he wanted to go Barcelona, it wasn't unexpected that Grantaire tagged along. Normally they'd go on vacation with all of the Amis. Camping, taking road trips, but this was a weekend with just the two of them and at this very moment Grantaire was very thankful for that.

They sat alongside each other at a bench in the Sagrada Familia. Grantaire with a sketchpad on his lap, Jehan scribbling wildly in his notebook. They had tried to take photo's at first, but even with Grantaire's talent for photography he felt like he couldn't catch the beauty just the way he wanted. So he sketched and Jehan wrote poetry. An attempt to reproduce the way the light fell in the basilica.

Jehan and Grantaire were both artists, they could understand the others need to try to catch the details in to either words or drawings. In the hour before they had both stared at the ceiling. Jehan had read in a book about Gaudi that with the pillars, it should look like a forest, which it actually did. The natural shapes and the lightness of the building gave it a very modern feel, something they both enjoyed. They loved the light, the way it shone trough the stained glass.

And so they sat. Writing, drawing. Both thankful of being able to take the time to do so. No words needed to be exchanged, it was a mutual understanding. No Enjolras rambling about the power of the church, no Bahorel nagging about when they finally could go and get food, no Courfeyrac hitting on other tourists. Just the two of them and that beautiful building. And if they stayed there the entire afternoon, nobody minded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this drabble back in June when I visited the Sagrada Familia myself and I actually stayed inside for about two hours just enjoying the beauty of the building feeling inspired to write something, but I didn't have a notebook with me... so of course Jehan and Grantaire both took their material in my writing.  
> The ceiling and pillars together are actually supposed to look like a forest and to me it does in some kind of way, but here you have a picture so you can take a look yourself: [Click](http://www.holabarcelona.nl/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/La-Sagrada-Familia-binnen.jpg) (the church is empty here though and is right now at least more decorated/filled).  
> And I actually can't find a picture that shows the beautiful lightning inside, but here's a picture of the stained glass, which might give you an impression: [Click](http://faithtwins.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/inside-sagrada-familia.jpg)
> 
> Thanks for reading ;)


	7. Airplanes in the night sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feuilly watches the sky at night looking for inspiration for his writing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I have some Feuilly only writing for you guys. I was inspired by the night sky when I was hanging out on my balcony last week and well, this came out of it... Enjoy reading!

Feuilly let his head fall back against the chair, looking up to the dark night sky. He rubbed his face with one of his rough hands. It was almost midnight and he was sitting on the roof terrace of his apartment complex. The terrace was shared with the other inhabitants of the building, but at this time of night there was no one to be found other than him. The moon was almost full and together with the lanterns in the street he found the world was still quite light. It didn't help of course that the open laptop on his knees also generated light.

Ever since the early morning he had been busy. First his job, after that there was some administration to be done and later there was the meeting. Right now he was making an attempt to start on the article about working conditions of foreign people in France he promised Enjolras to write. He was tired and nothing proper came to his mind, but for the rest of the week he didn't have time to do it with his busy working schedule, so it had to be done now.

Feuilly closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the beat of the music that came through his earphones, before opening them again looking at all the little points of light in the sky above him. He enjoyed the sight for a bit, until he realized one of them was moving: an airplane. For a second he wondered where it was going and if he could come along. Away from responsibilities, away from a mind full of things that still had to be done. A vacation would be nice. Just for once. A break from everything. Though he knew that wouldn't happen for him.

He was a self taught man, something he was proud of every single day. Self taught though did mean no diploma's to prove your skills on paper and that meant always getting the jobs that paid shit. And being paid shit meant hard working to let ends meet. He did have some recommendations from jobs he did when he still lived in Poland, but none of his employers had ever looked at those. It was that train of thoughts that gave him just the spark for his article he needed. He rubbed his face once more, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes before starting a quick rhythm with his fingers on the keys.


	8. How will I know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jehan finds a message in his notebook and listens to the radio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing again back in april this was the first thing that I wrote after two years. Of course it had to be a bit fluffy so yeah, here is some Jehan/Courf for you guys.

Jehan sighed. This morning, sipping at a cup of tea in the Musain, he'd been so full of inspiration and now... nothing. He was sitting in the living room of the house he shared with his friends, Les Amis. Slowly he flipped trough the pages of the notebook in front of him,  reading his drabbles, trying to find something useful. He needed to write a poem for the final grade of his poetry class. It was due in two days and he still had nothing. He read the drabbles he'd  written this morning but there was nothing useful. He was ready to throw the book to the other end of the room when he saw it, a little message in a handwriting that wasn't his.

_Hey my little poet,_

_I know you don't like me snooping in your notebook, but you were so busy writing the whole time I couldn't help but looking at what was going round in that head of yours._

_Nice work!_   
_x Courf_

Jehan smiled, tracing the words with his fingers. Courfeyrac was his best friend, the center of Les Amis, the biggest flirt he'd ever known and the guy he had a crush on ever since they'd met at the first day of college. He wondered for a brief moment when Courfeyrac could've written this, but there was only one option: This morning, he'd just written down the sentence that was going trough his mind ever since he got up that morning, he decided he needed some more tea. He went to the counter and after ordering he stayed around a little while to make some small talk with Eponine about her new boyfriend Montparnasse. They just talked for a couple of minutes, but that would've been enough for Courf to read some of his work and write the message.

Jehan sighed again and listened to the radio that was playing on the background. He cached up on the song that was playing, shut his notebook and turned the volume up.

_I say a prayer with every heart beat_   
_I fall in love whenever we meet_   
_I'm asking you what you know about these things_   
_How will I know if he's thinking of me_

He sang along, dancing trough the room with his notebook in his hands. His mind wandered off to the guy who wrote the message instead of the poem he'd tried to write just moments before.

_If he loves me, if he loves me not_   
_If he loves me, if he loves me not_

_How will I know (Don't trust your feelings)_   
_How will I know_   
_How will I know (Love can be deceiving)_   
_How will I know_   
_How will I know if he really loves me_

The song ended, faded in to something Jehan didn't know. He was about to walk over and turn the volume back down when he suddenly heard a voice behind him. "Asking helps, you know." Jehan turned around facing Courfeyrac who was leaning against the doorpost. "I... eh..." the poet stuttered, a blush creeping up his cheeks as Courf got away from the door walking towards him. "So..." He was really close now and Jehan could see the little green flecks in his eyes. "Do you love me, or do you love me not?" A cheeky grin showed on Courfeyracs face,  the green flecks starting to twinkle, as he repeated the lyrics at Jehan. The poet took a deep breath, gathering all his courage and with final step and closed the space between them, kissing the boy in front of him softly. He definitely loved him, that wasn't even a question.

 


	9. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jehan and Courfeyrac break up. Jehan wants to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. First of all: Thanks everyone for the kudos and the sweet comments. I really enjoy reading them. Second: yeah, I don't know what this is. It's Courf/Jehan with some Grantaire/Jehan friendship on the side. The style is a bit different from what I normally do but that's just kinda how it ended up. I was really not supposed to write this, since I wanted to write some Combeferre/Grantaire for the Combeferregrantaireweek but that didn't came out the way I wanted it. So yeah.
> 
> Oh and normally I try to not put too much of the same couple up right after each other but since I both post new things and rewritten stuff from Fanfiction.net here it can happen that you see more of the same couple close after each other here.

New. New. Everything needed to be new. To be different. To stop reminding him. Reminding him of open windows, the breeze coming through while his hands were buried in dark curls. Reminding him of watching movies, not minding which kind because they wouldn't see much of it anyway, too absorbed in each other. Reminding him of too much aftershave, the smell lingering on the pillowcases even if the person that left it there was already out of bed, making coffee for the two of them. The pillowcases needed to go. Things needed to change, to stop reminding him.

A garbage bag slowly filled with memories. Tickets to the theatre. Flowers given to him only a few days ago. His notebook filled with loud laughter, sweet kisses, dark curls, glinting eyes. Postcards. The pillowcases. A shirt left behind. Courfeyracs toothbrush in the bathroom. Half of his locks, a braid cut in halve.

The telephone rings. Jehan doesn't pick up. The phone rings again. And again. And again. Jehan picks up, says nothing.

The doorbell rings. Rings again. Rustling close to his front door. The click of a lock. Footsteps in the hallway. Another set of dark curls around the corner. Strong arms envelope him in a tight hug. His eyes squeeze shut. The stale smell of alcohol comes to his nose. He leans against broad shoulders. Grantaire.

Hours pass. More locks falling down. With them memories of feeling lean fingers carding through, getting replaced by the feeling of blunt fingers running through short locks, a soft smile shared through the bathroom mirror.

Days pass. Walls change in color. Old plants go out, new plants come in. New pillowcases come in. The smell of aftershave goes out, getting replaced by the smell of vanilla scented candles. New notebooks come in. Furniture gets shuffled around

New, new. Everything is new. Nothing looks the same, but still... the memories remain.


	10. A weekend in July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Les Amis get together for their annual trip the first weekend of July. Bahorel observes his friends families 10 years after graduating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like on FF.net, here too the 10th chapter is the first one with all of the Amis in it as a celebration of the fact that I even made it to 10 chapters.

Bahorel leaned against the doorpost, a plate of meat in his hand. He looked out over the big garden that belonged to the villa in the Provence, their home for the weekend. By now it was a tradition. The first weekend of july the Amis came together to spend four days away from their homes, friday till monday.

It had started when they graduated from college ten years ago. To celebrate graduation they'd rented a beach house in Bretagne, big enough for the thirteen of them: Enjolras, Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Jehan, Marius, Cosette, Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, Eponine, Combeferre, Feuilly and of course himself, Bahorel. Ever since, it was Combeferre who would find a place big enough for all of them to spend the weekend. At first just the thirteen of them, but their group had gradually expanded every year to an account where their group would be doubled by next summer.

Most of his friends were parents now, ten years after graduating. He was the only one who hadn't settled down yet. Of course there had been women, there had been many, but no one special enough to keep around. He didn't mind though. He had his friends, a busy job as a security guard and all his nieces and nephews who were now playing in the garden in front of him. Bahorel loved every single one of them and he loved being an uncle. Though, he hoped to have a child of himself one day. Especially now his best friend was becoming a father.

Feuilly announced his wifes pregnancy the previous evening at dinner. He had gotten married to a lovely Polish girl just before Christmas and she was now just over three months pregnant. They'd met when Feuilly had started his job at the Polish embassy in Paris, two years earlier and had been together ever since. She was a business woman and also the only person absent this weekend, since she had a meeting in Warsaw she couldn't miss.

Barhorel looked around the garden to find his best friend sitting next to Bossuet, with little Hugo on his lap. Hugo was a five year old boy and the exact copy of Joly. When the three of his friends had gotten in a serious relationship, the rest of the Amis had wondered how they were going to make things work if any of them ever wanted kids. They'd gotten their answer when Musichetta told them she was pregnant, now seven years ago. When the child was born Bossuet had called it the best accident he'd ever had, since the pregnancy wasn't planned at all. Their friend was known as notoriously unlucky, but hadn't passed that gene on to his baby boy. Victor was now six years old and though he looked like a mixture of Bossuet and Musichetta, he acted a lot like Joly. The kid had a thousand different allergies and this morning he had spend fifteen minutes putting sunscreen on before going outside while giving his brother a speech on skin cancer. Bahorel sometimes wondered how a kid that age would know all these things, just before remembering Joly was also a part of this family.

Hugo was born a year after Victor and was very much planned, so it wasn't a big surprise this was Joly's boy. After his birth, Musichetta had joked that surrounding herself with boys was her secret talent. Just as Victor, Hugo seemed to be a perfect mixture of the three of them since he was just as unlucky as Bossuet. The little boy was always covered in bruises from one or another accident he had been in, which caused Joly to be overly protective of his son. Just then Bahorel heard a loud giggle and he saw Joly catching up with the boy he was chasing through the garden, Musichetta on his heels.

Around the pool Marius and Cosette were all over each other. Marius had his hands on the big belly of his wife and was whispering against it. By the way pregnant woman looked, Bahorel guessed it were sweet nothings. Marius and Cosette had gotten married straight out of college and it wasn't really a surprise when ten months later their first child was born. Tom, their son, was now nine years old. Bahorel saw him jumping in to the pool, holding hands with his sister. Lola was born two years after Tom and was now seven. Their youngest son, Nathan was born a year after and now number four was on the way. Cosette, being seven months pregnant, had already sworn that even though she loved all her freckly babies this was the last one. The boy or girl that would be born before the end of summer would make their not-so-little family complete. Bahorel knew there were already bets on the unborn child's name, since their three other children had all names that you would find on the "Most popular names of this year" list that the newspaper published every december.

Where Marius and Cosette chose popular names for their children, Grantaire and Enjolras had gone unsurprisingly for traditional French names. The men lived together now with their two adopted children. It had been quite a procedure, adopting was never easy, but a couple of years after their decision to do so, they got their daughter Aurélie. The girl was now four years old. Two and a half years later she was followed by a little boy, Didier who had just reached the age of two. The two kids had always surprised Bahorel, especially Aurélie. He looked over to her. She was atop of a chair, talking as if she was giving a speech. In front of her were two other children, one of which was Nathan. Even though the young boy was two years older than the girl, he let her happily boss him around. Watching Aurélie, Bahorel decided, it was sometimes weird to realize she didn't share any genes with Enjolras, since the girl took so much after her father.

Next to Nathan he saw Simone, Aurélies best friend and the three year old daughter of Combeferre and Eponine. Bahorel wasn't surprised to find Enjolras and Combeferre chatting, not far away from their girls. Eponine was lazily hanging against Ferre's shoulder. His hand on her belly, because Cosette wasn't the only pregnant woman on their trip. In four months, Combeferre and Eponine would welcome their second child. Simone, named after Simone de Beauvior, wanted a baby brother just like Aurélie so she had told Bahorel last night when he had put her to bed. Inwardly he had smiled. It was sweet to see how the younger girl looked up to her older friend.

Looking around, Bahorel found Grantaire with Courfeyrac and Jehan in the pool. While Courf and Jehan only had eyes for each other in this very moment, Grantaire was attacked by two similar looking girls. Just like Grantaire and Enjolras, Jehan and Courfeyrac had looked in to adoption after their marriage. They had been very open about wanting children, even before they got engaged. That was why, when the topic of children came up again after their marriage, Courfs sister had told them she would be their surrogate if they wanted. It was an offer that had caused quite some discussion, but had resulted in two little girls. The identical twins were the female versions of Jehan with their long blonde hair and freckly noses, though they had Courfs playful brown eyes. Lily and Rose were named after Jehans favorite flowers, but weren't as sweet as you would expect upon hearing their names. Just like right now while attacking Grantaire, the two were always up to something. It was a feature Bahorel could appreciate. He loved watching the girls sneak around as if no one could tell they were planning on something by their behaviour.

Bahorel stepped out, walking towards the barbecue to start on making dinner for the big group. It was good to be together again. In their college years they only spend a rare moment apart, now though, they'd hardly see each other as a group. Of course individual members of the Amis visited each other, but it was only a couple of times a year they were all together at once. It was that what made these weekends in july so precious to Bahorel, he realized as he turned some hamburgers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was my view on how the Amis would be like ten years after college, or actually... me indulging in the fact that I love fluff and kids and because of that gave most of them (many) kiddo's. It's just a small impression, but yeah.  
> The names of Marius and Cosettes children really come from one or another popular names in France list. Nathan is actually the number 1 for boys, where Tom is on place 13 and Lola is number 6 for girls. For E/R I decided on some typical French names. And Simone is of course named after Simone de Beauvoir because she was a feminist and the woman who lived with Sartre, the French philosopher. A fitting combination for Combeferre and Eponine in my mind. Oh and Poland actually has an embassy in Paris, i looked that up.


	11. Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire has his fist art show, Enjolras is late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today there is some E/R again and there are mentions of Combeferre.

Shit, shit, shit! _He's late, he's so goddamn late._ Enjolras thinks as he stumbles through the hallway of his apartment, one hand using to try and pull on his shoes and simultaneously trying to smell if his shirt is still clean enough whilst trying to look at himself in the mirror.

He promised Combeferre this morning over the phone. _Yes Combeferre, of course he would remember, of course he would be on time. It was the opening of his boyfriends first art show for godssake._ Grantaire had already been nervous for weeks, talking about it constantly. The time and date were in his agenda, a red circle surrounding it: important! But then, whilst reading the newspaper at breakfast, his eyes fell on something about the political situation in Egypt. He got a strike of inspiration for his next speech and had been looking things up, reading and writing ever since. And now it is 10 minutes before the official programme of the opening starts. it was also still a 10 minute bike ride to the museum. Enjolras is still wearing his shirt, shoes half on. He decides the red shirt he's currently wearing will have to do. Quickly pulling his black jacket over it and spraying some perfume on, the one Jehan got him for his birthday, so he can at least pretend to be freshly showered.

Enjolras takes the stairs two at a time, eyes searching out his red mountainbike between the other bicycles at the front of the apartment building. On days like this he's glad his favorite color is an outstanding one, not needing much time to find his bike between the mass of black ones.

He ignores a few red lights, crosses some sidewalks, almost runs over a woman with a stroller and all but throws his bike in the rack in front of the museum. He is still out of breath when he steps inside, looking for the hall in which the official opening takes place.

When he notices, he quickly slips in. Grantaire is sitting in the front row, fidgeting with his hands, a nervous tick. Enjolras squeezes his shoulder, a sign letting the dark haired boy know he is here, a silent good luck. He slips past some people to sit next to Combeferre, a couple of rows away from Grantaire. His best friend has left him a seat, but gives him a stern look when he sits down, chest still heaving from the rushed bike ride.

He shouldn't have been a second later, because the moment he sits down a woman with grey hair stands up and walks to the front of the room. She welcomes the guests, thanks the sponsors and then starts to talk about the project. About how they asked young, promising artists from the city to show a couple of their works at the gallery. She tells a little bit about every single one of them. When Grantaire's name is called, Enjolras sees him blush, but smile at the same time. He's loaded with compliments by the woman. About how he is a great talent and how people should enjoy his work while they can because in a couple of years his work will be only visible in the biggest museums of the world and not in small cities like theirs. Enjolras heart swells with pride and he scolds himself internally for almost missing out on this because of his stupid obsessive behaviour.

When the woman is done raving over Grantaire, the artist looks incredibly shy and a tad uncomfortable. Enjolras smiles at him from across the room and applauds enthusiastically as the woman ends her speech.

After her, the major gives a speech about the importance of this type of art shows for young talent in their area and then it's finally time to go and actually take a look at the gallery.

Enjolras meets Grantaire at the bar. Grantaire drowning a glass of red wine, then replacing his own glass and handing one to Enjolras. They greet with a quick kiss before exchanging words. "I'm so sorry I was late R, I eh... got a bit soaked up in my work." The blond rubs his neck shyly, but Grantaire beams at him."You're here, that's the important thing. Come on, let me show you my paintings. They hang at such a pretty place." Enjolras let himself be dragged along, now being soaked up in his talented boyfriends enthusiasm. And later when they're in bed, tired from the long day and the excitement, Enjolras thinks that's the thing he should be soaked up in way more often.


	12. Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bahorel puts his son to bed. The monster in the closet isn't the only that needs to be chased away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello,
> 
> Today I have for you some Bahorel and his child.  
> A little trigger warning for mentions of a terminal illness before the chapter, just so you know.

"You still have to chase the monster from the closet dad!" Bahorel looked up from the window where he was closing the curtains. He had just read his four year old son a bedtime story, but apparently the little kid had come up with another thing to keep him from actually going to sleep.

Bed time with four year old Max was always a challenge. First he had to drink something, then he wanted to play-fight with his dad, after that his mom needed to give him another kiss, then there was a bedtime story, often his favorite teddybear was lost (and of course always hidden in the same place which made clear the kid hadn't actually lost it) and the newest addition to the list of excuses was the monster in the closet.

Bahorel didn't mind. He just always started early with putting the kid to bed and enjoyed this time with his son. Bedtime was at seven, so they went upstairs at a quarter past six. That way on a good day the kid was actually in bed before the clock hit seven and on days like today where every excuse was used, it would just be a little past seven when he closed the door to the small boys bedroom.

"Oh really? Is the monster back again?" He asked the boy in a playful voice and Max nodded heavily. "Hmm, can't you chase him yourself? You won when we fought earlier, so you're definitely the strong one here." "But you're scarier dad, you're big. And i'm not that much stronger." Max hugged his teddy close and looked expectantly at his father from under the blankets. And indeed, Bahorel was a big guy. He had always been, but with his job as a sports instructor his muscles had only grown bigger.

He walked to the closet and opened the door. With a serious voice he told the monster to leave and for the effect he knocked the walls of the closet a couple of times with his fist. From behind him Bahorel heard Max gasp. The whole ordeal was apparently exiting for his son. He spoke another threat to the closet monster and then turned around to Max, who had his face hidden behind his teddy now, but was still peeking from behind the fluffy body.

"Well, I don't think he's coming back." Bahorels voice had turned soft again when he sat on the side of his sons mattress. Max came crawling from under the blankets and threw his arms around his fathers neck, ear of the teddy still stuck in his tiny hand. "Thanks dad, you're the best!" Bahorel wrapped his arms around the kid and he felt the little head hiding in his neck.

"Dad?" The kid's voice sounded suddenly serious. "You'll always protect me, right?" Bahorel hugged the kid closer and his voice was trembling, barely audible when he answered "Sure little one." Max apparently didn't notice from his hiding place in Bahorels neck, so he kissed the crown of the kids head and rasped his throat. "Come on Max, it's really time to go to bed now."

That night he tucked the blanket extra tight around Max. "Sleep well." "G'night dad." He dimmed the light so the room wasn't entirely dark, just how Max liked it and then he closed the door. With a sigh he leaned against it, because how was he ever going to tell this little boy that he wasn't. That he couldn't protect him forever. How did you tell a young boy like that that the monsters in the closet were a lot less life threatening than the monsters that would kill his dad from the inside out? That it was only a matter of time? How?


	13. Eurovision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac organizes a theme party for Eurovision 2013, Grantaire is impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this on may 18th for [Eurovision 2013](http://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eurovisiesongfestival_2013). It was posted back then on FF, but since i'm putting everything up here too it's now here while it's a bit outdated. Ah well. For now, enjoy some E/R, Jehan/Courf and Eponine, Cosette, Feuilly and Bahorel enjoying the Eurovision Song Contest. Oh and special thanks go to [this tumblr](http://theabcguide.tumblr.com/post/39668067697/getting-to-know-the-barricade-boys-part-4) for my description of Feuilly.

Courfeyrac surely knew how to throw a party Grantaire thought when he plopped on to the couch in Jehans living room. A couple of weeks ago, their Centre had decided that they were going to have an "Eurovision night" and his boyfriend had allowed him to organize it in his living room, for as long as Courf would take care of everything.

 

The French flag was used as a tablecloth on the coffee table. On top of it were several types of snacks with cocktail picks in it. Every cocktail pick was had a tiny flag of one of the competing countries around it. No one could say Courfeyrac hadn't worked hard on this theme party. It was still half an hour before the contest started, but the television was already on with some previews for the night and slowly the guests were coming in. Not all of the Amis could come tonight, but most of them were there.

 

Grantaire himself was already seated on the couch, beer in hand, Enjolras next to him. His boyfriend wasn't a big fan of the Eurovision, but when he heard the contestant for France would sing in French, his patriotic heart had convinced him to join the party. Grantaire was most curious about the song from Greece, mainly because it had the word 'alcohol' in the title.

 

Cosette and Eponine were seated on the other couch with Jehan and Courfeyrac. They had watched the semi-finals together and were mostly chatting about the outfits of the contestants. Cosette had just declared that she hoped the Dutch contestant Anouk would be wearing something more spectacular tonight, since she considered the mostly black ensemble from last tuesday rather boring. Eponine was debating it though, she loved the simplicity of it.

 

Feuilly was on the floor in front of Grantaire and Enjolras. He was a bit disappointed about the fact that Poland wasn't competing, but he still had a list of countries he was looking forward to. As a specialist in foreign politics he had some personal favorites, so he had printed the list of competitors Courfeyrac had send the day before and highlighted the countries he was most curious about: Greece, Hungary, Romania, Italy and of course his beloved homeland France.

 

Grantaire looked around the room at his friends. With only Bahorel yet to arrive the living room was already rather full. He knew that when the contest started, it would be filled with their loud chatter. This was how he liked his nights best. Beer in one hand, boyfriend tucked under his arm, friends sprawled out around him and a night of useless discussion about bad television ahead of him. Yes, Eurovision 2013 was going to be a good one.


	14. Too neat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine gets married. Her husband-to-be doesn't entirely look like himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the two E/E. things I wrote which are both already posted on FF. I ship both E/R and E/E so I write both too. I'm sorry if you don't like them, but then you might want to skip this one.

She took the last couple of steps towards him, arms linked with Grantaire. Normally this was a fathers job, but she hadn't spoken to her father in years so she opted for her best friend instead. She had seen the way the eyes of the man in front of her had lit up when she entered the room. Their eyes had locked and still were now she was walking down the aisle. Eponine had eyes for no one but him. She took the last step, hugged Grantaire and took the hand of the man who would be her husband only minutes from now. Grantaire gave him a warning look as if to say _'I know where to find you when you hurt her.'_ but he didn't say the words. Instead he took his seat at the front row.

  
Eponine looked at her husband-to-be. He looked odd, too neat. He never was neat. He was always busy and that caused the fact that he left a mess everywhere he went. He himself was a mess most of the time. Now his hair was combed back in a way it never was, so she extended her hand and ruffled it. She heard the people around her laugh at the gesture. His eyes were still only focused on her, an expression of love on his face. She tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. It looked more natural now, more like the man she woke up to and went to bed with, more like the man who would become her husband today, more like Enjolras.


	15. Weddingband

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire sometimes wondered what the point was at which they'd started to grow apart. He was still the struggling artist he imagined himself to be, but Enjolras was far from the activist in their fantasies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some E/R for you today.

Enjolras rolled off Grantaire with a heavy sigh. Together they stayed lying like that for a while, a moment of total relaxation, trying to steady their breaths before even thinking about leaving the bed. After a minute or two Grantaire turned to his side, absentmindedly tracing patterns on Enjolras' arm.

The dark haired man caught himself thinking about their days in college. When they had just started dating, they would lay in bed like this for hours. They would talk about what their lives were going to be like in the future. Enjolras would be an activist, living for his ideals. Grantaire a struggling artist, trying to make it as a painter. They would live in a ratty apartment, probably in a bad neighbourhood, not being able to afford much more. A life that would inspire Enjolras to work even harder. Maybe after a while they would take in a stray cat if their landlord approved. They wouldn't be rich. Most their income would probably go to bailing Enjolras out after a bad protest or new art supplies for Grantaire, but they would be happy. They would have each other.

"How are the kids?" Grantaire asked when Enjolras got up to grab his boxers.

"I'm not talking with you about the kids when we're like this." He gestured to their naked bodies, while he picked up the rest of his clothes. They never talked about the kids, because they never where together other than when they were like this.

Grantaire sometimes wondered what the point was at which they'd started to grow apart. He was still the struggling artist he imagined himself to be, but Enjolras was far from the activist in their fantasies.

He watched the blond grabbing the gold wedding band on his bedside table and putting it on his left hand. "Next week, same time right?"

Grantaire only nodded, it was a routine by now. Somewhere in the years that passed, life was what happened to them. He didn't know exactly how or when, but it did. Enjolras' parents had somewhere along the line convinced their son that he would achieve far more by being a lawyer and after that, marriage to an equally blonde woman wasn't that big of a step. So now three kids, Grantaire didn't even know their names, a labrador and a couple of promotions later Enjolras was at the top of his career and Grantaire had became noting more then an affair. He still was the struggling artist, but instead of the lover he was now the shadow, the secret flaw to the blondes perfect family.


	16. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red has always been Enjolras favorite color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another E/E one. This was actually the first E/E thing I ever wrote. And just to be sure: a small trigger warning for blood. Though it's not explicit.

Red was his favorite color. It always had been. When he was younger, his favorite toys were red: the ball, the train, even his teddy bear. It stayed like that when he got older. His first car had been red, even as the tie he wore at their wedding.

His thoughts went back to that day. It was almost a year ago now, their anniversary was only two weeks away and it was going to be a special one. It was their first wedding anniversary and the only one ever they would be spending with just the two of them, or actually... it was the three of them already. Enjolras looked over to the little red t-shirt hanging over the chair in the corner of their bedroom. He had bought it the day she told him she was pregnant, now four weeks and two days ago. Yes, he counted the days. He also counted the days until their doctors appointment for the ultrasound, 29 days if you didn't count today.

He stepped out of bed, folding the red duvet back neatly and walked to the kitchen, their kitchen. At least for now. They had rented the apartment two years ago. It was old and small, but cheap and it gave them the ability to save up. They would move out in four months and three days (again, counting) to a small house at the outskirts of town. It had a garden, a room for the baby and a study, where their current apartment only had a combined kitchen/living room, their bedroom, and a hall which led to the bathroom and the front door.

Walking in to the kitchen he'd expected Eponine there, since she'd gotten up half an hour before him, but the kitchen was empty and she wasn't on the couch ether.

He walked trough the hall, looking if she was in the bathroom. There he found her sitting on the ground, back against the bathtub, crying silent tears. He looked her over and it was only then he noticed her pyjama bottoms. Sinking down, pulling her close he could only think about how red wasn't his favorite color anymore.


	17. Everybunny needs somebunny sometime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jehan has a bad day, but his boyfriend is there to cheer him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to some Jehan/Courf fluff.

The card on his doorstep said it all. It was a pink/brown, square card with two bunnies upon it. Above the bunnies was a text: 'Everybunny needs somebunny sometime'. Jehan smiled while reading the back of the card. It was really nice to have someone who knew you so well.

It was winter, cold, raining for days now and Jehan had a writers block. Together, those things made him feel like curling up underneath his blankets and staying in bed for days. It wasn't a feeling he particularly liked. So instead of dwelling on it he took the card with him in to the livingroom and while reading it again, he made himself a cup of tea.

He was mindlessly dipping the teabag in the cup when he heard a knock on his front door. For a second he thought about not opening and taking the tea with him to curl up in his bed anyway, but he didn't. As he opened the door he was immediately happy he did so. In front of him stood his boyfriend, with a big smile on his face. "I got your card." "Yeah i thought you could use some cheering up." Jehan smiled as Courfeyrac kissed him and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Come on, I brought your favorite icecream and that romantic comedy you've been bugging me about for weeks now. Grab a blanket while I'm going to pop in the dvd because we're not going to leave the couch until you feel better." Jehan did as he was told, not mentioning he already felt better now his boyfriend was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  The picture this whole thing is based on and which is on Jehans card is one I found on Pinterest and you guys can find it here: [Click](http://pinterest.com/pin/412009065879731781/).


	18. A simple 'thank you'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine takes Courfeyrac out for dinner to thank him for taking care of Gavroche. She already regrets allowing Musichetta and Cosette to dress her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today I have for you some Eponine/Musichetta/Cosette friendship and some mentions of Gavroche and Courfeyrac.

Eponine pulled at the hem of her dress in an attempt to make it cover up more of her legs, wondering why again she had let Cosette and Musichetta dress her up like their personal Barbiedoll. The black dress was tight and short and originally belonged to Cosette. Eponine was quite sure she had actually seen Cosette wearing it as a top one day, but since the blonde was a couple of inches taller than Eponine she had stated it could do as a dress for the brunette.

After her first attempt to pull the dress down a little, she now pulled it up to make sure there wasn't too much cleavage showing. This was not a date so technically she didn't even had to look sexy even though Cosette and Musichetta had a different opinion about that.

Tonight, she was treating Courfeyrac at dinner. Ever since she had taken a new job at a restaurant, she had made long hours and Courf had taken care of Gavroche in the time she was at work. He made the little boy dinner every night, made sure his homework was done and after that they played together. Last week he had even gone to a parent-teacher conference when her boss wouldn't give her some time off to go, so he deserved a proper 'thank you'. She had saved up her tips from the last month, which was enough to pay dinner for two if they didn't went to a too fancy place.

She walked, or more wobbled, down the street to the restaurant in Musichetta's heels. Since her friend had the same shoe-size, she couldn't get away with the excuse of not owning a pair of heels. That was how she ended up with a pair of what she called 'hooker shoes' on her feet, wearing a too short dress. "I look like a cheap slut!" she had protested after the girls had forced her in tonight's outfit. "No you look sexy. And you need to get laid. You're single, Courf's single, just act nice and go for it." had been Musichettas answer before she had shoved her out of the house "Now hurry up or you'll be late", not giving the brunette a chance to grab her leather jacket and cover herself up.

Now Eponine stood in front of the restaurant. She pulled the dress up one last time and sighed "Here we go."


	19. Coming home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joly comes home after a long shift at the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some Joly/Musichetta/Bossuet.

He closed the door as soft as he could and tiptoed into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror Joly noticed the warningly dark circles under his eyes. He made a mental note to keep an eye on that, while brushing his teeth and trying to get in to his pyjama's in the main time.

 

He'd just came home from a long shift at the hospital. As an intern he already made long hours, but his co-worker was sick and there had been an accident which caused a rush at the emergency department. That made the fact that it was now two o'clock while his shift had officially ended at ten. He washed his face and his hands up until his elbows. He dried of his hands with a paper towel (much more hygienic than a normal towel!) and grabbed some hand sanitizer. When it came to hygiene his motto had always been 'better safe then sorry'. 

 

Spreading the sanitizer between his fingers he walked out of the bathroom and leaned against the doorpost of the bedroom. In the light of the moon. that came through their bedroom window, his two lovers were more beautiful than ever. Sound asleep, Bossuet and Musichetta lay close together. Legs intertwined, duvet kicked aside. For a while he enjoyed the view until he noticed how his eyes were harder to open after every blink. So he crossed the room and stepped in to the bed at the empty space next to 'Chetta. He pulled the duvet over the three of them and felt how the woman in the middle automatically shifted closer to him. Joly smiled. It didn't matter how long and tiring his shifts were if he could come home to this, he thought while drifting of to sleep.


	20. Cosmopolitan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bahorel and Jehan go clubbing, someone starts calling Jehan names.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, today some Jehan/Bahorel friendship for you guys.

"You call him that one more time and you're in trouble... with me." If looks could kill, Bahorels certainly did at that moment. "Just let it go, I'm used to it." Jehan placed his hand on the broad shoulder of his friend and pulled him back. "You don't need to protect me, if they bother me I'll stand up for myself." "Well, you should be bothered. They called you a girl!" Bahorel exclaimed. The gesture Bahorel made with that caused Jehan to smile. This was so typical for Bahorel, always ready to help someone in need but mostly doing so by starting a fight.

Who looked at Bahorel for the first time probably saw a dangerous guy, but hey, who's really just what they look like. Les Amis all knew Bahorel was always in for a good fight, but he was more that. Way more. He was a law student, albeit a lazy one. He could be good if he wanted to, he always had a witty comeback, but he didn't want to and he was better with his hands anyway. He was also one of Enjolras' most attentive listeners, the one who joked around with Courfeyrac and Grantaire and if someone planned a night of partying they were sure to invite Bahorel because he knew the best places in town.

And that was how Jehan ended up tonight, in a club, with Bahorel. It was almost near the end of midterms but the other Amis still had tests to study for. Jehans last test had been this afternoon and he felt like celebrating. So he had called the one person he knew wasn't going to study for his tests anyway, for a night out in the town.

They had started at a bar, with a good conversation and too much wine, until Jehan had exclaimed he felt like dancing and so they went to the club. It was all fun and games until a couple of guys had approached Jehan to ask him if "the girl fancied a cosmopolitan, because that's what chicks like right?!" Jehan had just ignored the question, but they kept asking things like that. He knew they were well aware of the fact that he was a man. Yes, he had long, strawberry blonde hair which was braded with a yellow ribbon, but he also had a wide chest and strong arms that didn't fit a woman. And while Jehan just kept on dancing, Bahorel got irritated by the guys and decided to fix the problem once and for all. Jehan loved his friend for trying to help him, but it irritated him at the same time. Yes, he was a poet, yes he liked flowers and was someone who blushed easily, but he wasn't weak and he didn't need protection. He just chose to pick his fights wisely and this one wasn't worth it. He didn't feel like getting his good mood disturbed by some dumb schoolboys. So he took Bahorel away from the guys, away from the club. "Come on big guy. I'm not bothered and we're not getting you in trouble for this. Time to go home. It's late and we should go see if Enjolras has gone to bed already." That appeared to be the right thing to say. "Yeah he really should get to sleep if he wants to stay awake during his last couple of tests." Because that was what Bahorel was most, thought Jehan, someone who truly cared for his friends.


	21. Marathon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras trains for the marathon, Grantaire isn't too exited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this E/R drabble being posted I now have all the things that were on FF.net also on here. So now you guys get updates whenever I actually write something new instead of when I re-read the things I posted on FF before. So for now: enjoy reading this chapter and I hope to be writing something new soon ;)

If Grantaire would ever find out which one of Enjolras' colleagues challenged him to run the marathon with them, he was going to kick his butt. His blonde boyfriend was already way to busy for Grantaires liking, but now it was just too much. It was 6 a.m. and he had woken up to Enjolras rummaging around in their bedroom. "What exactly are you doing if I may ask Apollo?" "Have you seen my running shoes? I only have time to train before work today and I can't find them."

Enjolras worked long hours at a law firm in town and this summer they were organizing a marathon for one of the charity's they'd done a pro bono case for. Enjolras was never particularly sportive so he had held himself busy with the organization until one of his colleagues had challenged him to run with them. Apparently his competitive streak played up and he had said yes, much to Grantaires dismay.

Apart from the long hours at work, Enjolras was always busy with organizing rallies for Les Amis or writing articles for his reasonably successful political blog. In the hours that he was free he liked to read about the topics he cared for and spend time with their friends. Grantaire already had to be very persuasive to get an occasional date out of his boyfriend so they could spend some time outside their bed together (and even in their bed it was mostly sleeping because Enjolras got in late and stood up early). But now, with his new training schedule, there was no time for intimacy left, since Enjolras never did things by halves. Enjolras slept even less then he normally did to make it work and the most intimate they had been for over a month was when Grantaire had massaged Enjolras' tense shoulders while he read through a case for work.

"Have you seen what time it is? Please just come back to bed." Grantaire sat up behind Enjolras who had found his shoes and was sitting on the bedside, putting them on. "I told you already, I have like zero time. I have exactly 45 minutes for my training, before I have to be at the firm. I don't even have enough time to shower so I have to use  a shitload of deodorant and change in the toilet at work." Grantaire placed a soft kiss behind his boyfriends ear while Enjolras went on with his rant. "And since we have that big case at the end of the week I need to work late, after that i'm meeting Ferre to talk about next months rally and Feuilly wanted to see me about something with human rights in Poland, so i'm late tonight." "Yeah i got that point. So dinner alone for me, huh?" Grantaire pouted. "You can always eat with Courf if you don't want to be alone." Enjolras placed a kiss on Grantaires head before walking out of the bedroom, behind his back the dark haired boy rolled his eyes, that was not what he meant. "See you tonight, love you!" Enjolras quickly waved at Grantaire before grabbing his coat. "Did you even have breakfast?" Grantaire called after him, but at the same time he heard the door get shut. He let himself fall back to bed. This was going to be a long day.


	22. Sleeping habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras sleeps at Grantaires place for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is another E/R drabble, I hope you like it.
> 
> A little while ago there was a discussion on Kjack89's tumblr about [constructive criticism](http://kjack89.tumblr.com/tagged/On-the-continued-subject-of-constructive-criticism) and someone said there that there seems to be some sort of "rule" that says you only give criticism when the author asks for it. Now that seems a bit weird to me, but ok so just so you know: I'm always open to constructive criticism.  
>   
> 

Grantaire should be sleeping. Or actually, he should be passed out going from how tired he feels. Instead he lies on his side, arm tucked underneath his head, watching Enjolras sleep next to him.

It's the first time they're sleeping in a bed together, the first time Enjolras sleeps in Grantaires bed. Before they've fallen asleep together on the couch while watching a movie. Or one of them fell asleep as the other was reading, but never before they slept in a bed together, especially not on purpose. And this is on purpose, very on purpose. Tomorrow they're a month together and somewhere in this month Grantaire, notoriously late riser, has promised Enjolras to wake him up with coffee on the morning of their anniversary.

But now Grantaire can't sleep. A shiver runs down his spine as he runs the fingers of one hand through the blond curls, splayed out over the pillow next to him. He isn't entirely sure that's the cause of the shiver though, because truth to be told: Enjolras is a blanket stealer and is currently wrapped tightly in Grantaires duvet.

As he wraps his free arm around himself Grantaire watches the slow rise and fall of the cocoon that contains Enjolras. The blankets are drawn up to his boyfriends nose. The part of his face that the brunet can see, seems relaxed. The crease on his forehead that seems almost permanent in daytime, is now smoothed out. It makes him look young and vulnerable in a way that Grantaire hasn't seen before, so he tries to commit this sight to memory. Taking in every feature to dig up later, in an attempt to make them last forever in charcoal and paper.

For now he only moves slow and carefully, trying not to disturb the man next to him when he extracts his arm from under his head where the limb started to tingle. As he changes his position he notices the small puffs of Enjolras breath against the blanket, meaning that the blonde sleeps with his mouth open. A smile comes to Grantaires face, drinking in all these little bits of information about Enjolras he didn't knew yet.

When a second shiver runs down his spine though, he decides to get up and grab some pyjama's to put over his boxers, or a blanket at least. It's when he turns around to swing his legs over the side of the bed, that he feels a death grip on his wrist. As he turns to look, Enjolras is still sleeping, but has now extracted his arm from the cocoon, tugging Grantaire close to him. The brunet lets him and when he lays back down a sleeping Enjolras crawls closer to him, duvet and all. In seconds it's not only his wrist that's in a death grip, but his entire body. Enjolras legs slotted around his legs, head against his shoulder, one hand still on his wrist and the other slung over his chest. Because that night, Grantaire learns that more than a blanket stealer, Enjolras appears to be clingy in his sleep. And Grantaire? Well, he won't complain because at least he's warm again.

**Author's Note:**

> These drabbles will also be posted/have also been posted at FF.net.


End file.
